


Dead and Gone

by GreenT



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And she is adorable, Because I need at least one female character, End of the World, Fem!Ori - Freeform, M/M, Plague!AU, Protective!Dori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenT/pseuds/GreenT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world ended in a plague, leaving Bilbo Baggins completely alone. Until an old man and thirteen companions ran into town. Bilbo survived the end of the world. Can he survive them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not the Beginning. Not the End. Just the Epilogue.

**Author's Note:**

> I have more stories already in progress than I should, but I couldn't get this out of my head. Does it sound interesting?

Bilbo flipped through his journal before he began his new entry. He was diligent in his writing, for multiple reasons, which varied by the day. On good days, it was to leave a record of what occurred, what life was like, so that if humanity ever returned to its once great (great being a disputable term) size and power, future generations would know what happened. On bad days, he wrote to hold onto his sanity. 

Because he was alone. 

He didn’t always read his earlier notes. Sometimes he preferred to not remember the beginning of the end. That day he did. And he recalled the events with horrifying clarity. 

The strain was called A-Z-Zero-G or AZ0G.

It had driven humanity to near extinction. 

It was also called the Pale Flu, because of how the infected became so white just before death.

They say Patient Zero was a criminal. A bush-whacking poacher who got bit by an animal—no one knew what—and got sick. His doctors assumed it was just a common infection. In their defense, he had gotten similar things in the past. He was a hunter, a massive man with a cruel grin and scars of bites and claws littering his body. Didn’t seem like the type of guy to worry about. 

But they should have. 

Because he was also a traveler. He went all over the world often enough, looking for new prey or meeting dealers. It just so happened that he was meeting one in London the next week. 

And that’s went everything got so devastatingly worse. 

He had the first strain. A virus unused to human hosts. So he lived a lot longer than future victims. 

And he infected so many. 

On buses and trains and planes and in the streets AZ0G spread like wildfire. People just thought it was the flu at first. But then doctors started to notice its unusual…characteristics. 

The paleness. 

The muscular dystrophy. 

The uncontrollable bleeding. 

Because this virus didn’t act like a normal flu. The seasonal flu, even H1N1, killed through fever. They dehydrated a person and the infected died of it. AZ0G was much, much worse. 

It made you rot. 

Muscles shut down. People lost mobility. Nerves died. Limbs had to be amputated just to avoid gangrene infection!

And it stopped blood clots. A prick on the finger could make someone pass out. 

The virus also had what one doctor had called an ‘unpredictability factor’. The oxymoron was named for the virus’s ability to lay dormant in the human body. Some people could show symptoms within the hour of infection. Some didn’t show it for weeks. 

But it was always contagious. 

So the hub of London became a distribution factory. 

And within the year the human population was less than 10% of its original size. 

Within another it fell to less than a tenth of a percent. 

And it kept falling. 

The fact was there were immune people. Approximately half a percent of the world’s population was estimated to be safe from the disease. 

They could still be carriers. 

But as time passed, and the last of the non-immune humans died off, a new problem arose. Basic survival. 

There were no more supermarkets or gas stations or any western luxuries. Electricity and running water were only found where they were built in naturally, off city or town pipe lines. People who could not fend for themselves died as quickly as the sick. 

The most dangerous part of the world now though, was the people. 

Roving bands of marauders roamed the streets. They had guns from fallen soldiers or stolen from shops. They took all the spare food. And they killed whomever they felt like. 

Bilbo was not one of them. 

He hid. 

He had been living in a small town in Ohio when the world (for all intents and purposes) ended. He was a grocer. The only survivor left in his entire town. Luckily for him, he hadn’t seen any bands of killers or marauders in months. 

He hadn’t seen another living person in months. 

He had been surviving with a small supply of canned goods, his large garden, and a larger hoard of ramen noodles he cooked over a Bunsen Burner powered by a crank generator. He lived in the local library. And he tried to stay sane. 

It was difficult. 

There were days where he would lose himself in a book and not eat or sleep until he had finished the entire series. There were days he’d go to the mall and draw faces on the manikins and wish they would answer when he spoke to them. There were days where he wished he could find a gun and end it. 

There were good days too. Days when he would write his own novel on his typewriter and feel accomplished. Days when he went to the park and fed the squirrels. Days he dreamed of the world reborn. 

Perhaps living simply became a habit of his. Physically, it was not a hard life. No one harassed him. There were no dangerous animals in the area. He could finally read a book without worry someone would interrupt him. 

Sometimes he wondered if he was the only person left in the world. 

It was one of those times when he began to write his latest entry. 

And then he heard someone knocking at the door.


	2. He Will Miss His Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Company.  
> Isolation would suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a tad choppy, I rushed it a bit because I haven't had much time to write this week. And I have no motivation to write sometimes.

Bilbo didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. His eyes didn’t flick from the very letter they had been on when the door was struck. He waited.

Again, there was a knock on the door. 

The library doors were Plexiglas, completely see through, and unlocked at that. Whoever was there could open them. 

Which is what kept Bilbo in his book-fort. It was a little cube, two walls being actual walls, the corner of the library, the other two being made out of the library’s collection of World Encyclopedias, Encyclopedia Brittanicas, and Farmer’s Almanacs. He had a blanket for the roof, and it was a place where he went to feel safe and cozy. 

He told himself that if that were really someone out there, and not his crazed mind dreaming of company, they would just come in or go away. If it was just a hallucination, it had to stop sooner or later. Either way, he prayed it would end. 

And then he heard the door unlatch. 

Footsteps. 

“Anyone home?” a male voice called out. It was older, sounded curious, friendly. Familiar. 

Bilbo remained silent. 

The footsteps continued. The varied from moving closer to away, occasionally stopping and there would be a ruffling of pages. The man started walking again, getting closer and closer.

Then Bilbo heard him gasp. 

The man walked towards the little fort, slowly, quietly, and he saw the shadow on the blanket doorway. The man pulled it back. 

They stared.

The man was old, probably mid-sixties, very tall and skinny with a grey beard. He gazed back at Bilbo, the short, tan-haired man wearing a jumper in a book fort. The man squinted. 

“Bilbo?” he asked quietly. 

Bilbo eyes widened. 

“Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins? Is that you?” 

Bilbo panicked. 

“Who are you?! How do you know me? No, no, this isn’t real!” He scrambled away, knocking over a wall of encyclopedias trying to run. 

“Bilbo, stop! It’s me, Gandalf!” 

Bilbo spun to face him. He had a small memory of that name. An old man who had lived near his mother. Friends from their college days. 

“No! No, just go away!” This couldn’t be happening. It was his mind. He had finally cracked. 

“Bilbo! Please, I made those fireworks you liked! Stop!” 

Bilbo ran. He dashed through the library for the door, and nearly threw himself through it. He could go anywhere in town. The mall, the donut shop, anywhere. He had obviously just spent too much time in the library. He could go back home! Or to his grocery store! Yes, yes, that would be good. 

At least that’s what he thought until he saw the armored truck, squad car, Prius, and three motorcycles parked in front of the library, none of which had been there for the past two years, none of which he had ever seen before. 

Well, he’d seen the Prius. That was Gandalf’s. 

But the others, no. He didn’t even recognize the name of the town on the squad car. 

Which made it a little harder for him to believe he was imagining it. 

What he also had a hard time believing was that his mind had come up with the thirteen people all standing around them. All of whom were now staring at him with mild shock. 

This was bad. Very, very bad. 

And Bilbo fainted. 

\--------------------------------------

“You’re kidding,” a low voice said. Bilbo’s hazy mind couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard a voice other than his own. 

“We are taking him with us,” Gandalf stated. “Who knows how long he’s been on his own?”

“Exactly. He could be nuts for all we know. We’ve met isolated people before. As you may recall, they aren’t the most amiable characters!” 

The pair were arguing nearby as Bilbo slowly came to. His head was freezing, and when he reached up he discovered an ice pack had been placed beneath where he was laying. Groggily, he tried to look around. He was resting on one of the couches inside the library, and the back of his head was throbbing. There were some people milling about, most of them scary-looking. He thought he saw a girl, but his head was as foggy as a fall morning. 

“Wha-What the…” he spoke wearily. What had he missed?

“Bilbo, you’re awake!” Gandalf spun to see him. Bilbo gasped as it all came flooding back to him. He glanced up at the man Gandalf had been talking to. He was tall and intimidating, muscled with long black hair. Glaring at him. 

“What—Who..?!”

“Bilbo, I need you to calm down. I promise this isn’t a dream and none of us are going to harm you, understand?” Bilbo stared at him blankly. 

“Yo, Uncle! Is the fainter awake?” he heard a young voice call. Two younger men, probably college age, appeared from around a corner, smiling and sharing a bag of chips. The first man nodded. The boys turned to him in surprise. The older one, at least Bilbo believed that because he looked slightly more aged despite being shorter, had thick blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and a short blond beard. The other had shoulder-length dark brown hair, falling loosely around his face. The brunette waved at him. 

As Bilbo’s mind became clearer, it seemed as if the world started turning faster. He was being introduced to people by Gandalf, nodding briefly to each one to try and hide his shock. There were ones that looked like bikers, ones that looked at him suspiciously, ones that greeted him kindly. All but one was male, and she was a tiny thing, named Ori, who was carrying an enormous stack of books and seemed about as shy as he was. She was also being guarded by her older brother, Dori, at all times. 

“Gandalf! We need to go!” the first man, Thorin, called. Gandalf looked back at Bilbo.

“You should come with us,” he said, “You have been sitting here for far too long. Get packed, Bilbo.”

And as much as Bilbo was scared of the world outside, of this ‘Thorin’ who had done nothing but glare at him, and of all of these people whom he knew nothing about, Bilbo was relieved. Because now he knew he wasn’t the only person in the world anymore. 

And that’s what scared him most of all. 

So Bilbo packed up his necessities, and walked out the library door.


	3. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me, while I go try to think up an actual plot for this...

Bilbo rode in the Prius with Gandalf. They were the only two in the car, and Bilbo was not one for conversation. But he was happy to listen as Gandalf told him about his group. 

Bilbo had lost track of the number of months since he last heard another person’s voice. He had almost forgotten what they were like. He had tried to remember major lines from movies, going over the tones and accents in his head. But it had been just so long since he had heard someone other than himself. 

Gandalf had a pleasant voice. Low, but gentle. The old man had always regaled Bilbo with adventurous stories of warriors and dragons as a child. He had a talent for speaking, though he had been one for riddles in his day. 

But now he took his time describing the members of their company to Bilbo, and each one fascinated the lonesome man. 

The younger men Bilbo had seen were Fili and Kili Durin, nephews of the group’s leader. They had been going to Ohio State when things went south. The only immune students on campus, they had hidden in their dorms for most of it, surviving on vending machine snacks and occasional runs to the gas station. Their uncle had picked them up when the government fell and gangs started popping up. Their father had died in the plague early on. Their mother…well, they just didn’t know. They had run to her house just after being found and she was nowhere in sight. She could have died in the hospital or still be out there somewhere. There was no way of knowing. 

Oin and Gloin Longbeard were some of the older men he had seen. Oin was a doctor and Gloin had been a banker. Oin had seen the plague spread from beginning to end. He knew it in and out, as far as any doctor did, but he could never imagine how to cure it. Gloin had been on a business trip when it hit his town, and his family had passed away. Time to time he would start talking about his son’s many achievements and talents, and it would take him a minute to remember what happened. He always got quiet for a while after that. He had one of the sadder stories in the company, which was entirely comprised of sad stories. 

Dwalin and Balin Fundinson were also brothers, albeit very different. Dwalin was a cop, hence the squad car. He had been a biker in his younger years, his large amount of tattoos a testament to the old days. Trained in numerous firearms, he was one of the few in the group to be ready for a fight if ever the marauders happened upon them. His older brother Balin had been a professor of English Literature, but worked as the company’s navigator. 

Next was the Broadbeam family: Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bifur was the others’ cousin, and had been visiting from Holland when worse became worst. Only speaking Dutch but understanding English okay made him a little hard to talk to, but Bofur and Bombur were always happy to translate. Bifur also knew a good bit of sign language. Bofur, who had been born in Ireland (Their family was rather spread out), had run a small toy shop and was a merry fellow. His younger brother Bombur was a pastry cook at a local bakery, and despite the end of all things, was still two-hundred and fifty pounds, give or take. 

The Riley siblings were a whole different ball game. Dori, the eldest, had been a small-time businessman, who raised his little sister after their mother died giving birth to her. From different fathers, Dori had always been protective of his sister, especially when it came to romance, and the end of the world had only increased these habits. Nori, on the other hand, was small-time criminal, pick-pocketing, scamming, occasionally stealing something of importance. All of which made Dwalin hate him. They had actually met once, before the plague. Nori had been caught and Dwalin had been assigned his case file. 

He broke out the next day, albeit after leaving Dwalin a rather inappropriate note that may or may not have mentioned hand-cuffs. 

Then there was Ori. A sophomore at the time, one year older than Kili and one younger than Fili, she had been going to a rather prestigious liberal arts university when it hit the fan. She was the only girl in the group, which could make things awkward in more ways than one, whether it be Dori and Nori almost murdering Thorin’s nephews for talking about repopulation, or her having to ask to stop at the nearest convenient store every few weeks for…womanly things. She was witty and sharp, though rather shy, but was always there to lend a hand. No one had a problem with having a young woman in the company; the only concern was when the topic of the gangs came up. If they were ever caught, she was the one who’d suffer the worst, and they all knew it. So whether they noticed it or not, most of the men had grown quite protective. 

And last but certainly not least, their leader. Thorin Durin. He had owned a large security company before the plague, and was the source of the armored truck. Dwalin and Thorin were old friends from their biker days, and Thorin still rode his motorcycle. The man was a tad cold, as Bilbo had seen, but only out of concern for his group. They had already lost people. He didn’t plan on losing anymore. 

Thorin rode his motorcycle at the front of the convoy with his nephews who each rode their own bikes. Gandalf and Bilbo were next in the Prius, and Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and Gloin rode in the cop car. The Broadbeam and Riley families traveled at the back in the armored truck. 

Bilbo leaned back in his seat, a bit overwhelmed by it all, and tried to connect the names to the faces he’d seen in the library. 

“So where are we going?” Bilbo asked. They were his first words outside his library. 

“There is a city, far to the northeast. They call it Erebor. We have heard radio transmissions in the past few weeks. It is said to still be standing, a haven for people with immunity. We plan to head there, and hope it’s true.”

Bilbo nodded, a little dazed. 

Well, this would be an adventure.


	4. The Past and The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady troubles and how the group all met.

Had the world still been spinning, the trip would have been much quicker. However, for all intents and purposes it was not, so it took over a week just to get to Allegheny National Forest in northern Pennsylvania. 

The convoy had to constantly take back roads to avoid highways that were blocked for miles by abandoned cars, as well as cities or towns large enough to be attractive to gangs. Unfortunately, the group still had to find places to siphon gas, whether that be from any stations not yet drained or any cars lying about. They had to find food and other supplies (Dori had to break the glass of numerous automatic doors just so Ori could get inside the CVSs or Walgreens, just to find that the only items she really needed were gone). 

Bilbo had been slow to interact with the others, but within a few days he had talked to most of them and gotten their names straight. The company seemed to begin to trust him, even if they did find him a bit reclusive, but they all had their crutches. No one went through hell just to come out burn-free. 

When they reached the forest, Thorin told them to set up a camp in the woods. They had been traveling without any long stops since they picked him up, and ten days of sitting in vehicles or on a bike took its toll. Everyone agreed that a few days to stretch their legs and stock up on anything they were missing was not a bad idea. 

They hid their cars and bikes among the trees, covering them with branches and leaves. No need to risk attention. They watched how big their campfires got and never traveled alone. Fili and Kili would go hunting with their crossbows for a few hours most days, always inviting Ori along, to which she’d blush and turn away, while her brothers each gave the lads a death-glare. 

The higher-ups of the group, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin, spent most of their time out of the woods scavenging or hovering over maps, discussing possible routes. The rest sat around, smoking, joking, and relaxing around camp. Bilbo had a few minor conversations with a couple of them, mostly on trivial, unemotional things like the weather and how much everyone hated politics. Other than Gandalf, Bilbo didn’t have anyone he could really get past five minutes with. The others all had family in the company, in one form or another. They all had someone who knew what they had been through; most had gone through it together. 

Bilbo didn’t have anyone. Only Gandalf knew anything about his life before the plague, and the old man had skipped town just as it started making headlines, saying he had ‘business’ to attend to. 

So Bilbo kept to himself. He didn’t know others’ soft spots, and he had no desire to hit them on accident. There was no reason to send anyone into a PTSD-laden flashback of pain and death.

Of course, when Ori sat down next to him with a few of the books from his library in hand, he started worrying more about how much pain he’d be in if her brothers didn’t trust him. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I grabbed a few books,” she said sheepishly. He forced a gentle smile and shook his head. 

“Books were written to be read. I’m glad there’s a few people in the world that still remember they exist,” he said. She let out a soft, warm laugh. 

“Did you work there? The library?”

“No,” he shook his head again, “I ran a small grocery store. Always liked it though. Seemed like a good place to keep busy.” She nodded. 

“I used to dream of spending a life time in one. Just reading, you know? My old university had a library you could get lost in.” Ori smiled fondly at the memory. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Bilbo said, and then glanced back at her. “If it isn’t too painful, would you mind telling me how you got here? In this group I mean. I feel like I don’t know anyone.” She looked mildly surprised but shrugged. 

“Sure. Well, let’s see…Dori, Nori, and I lived in a small town on the outskirts of Chicago. Dori ran a café, and Nori…worked in the city, if you get my drift,” she answered sliding a skirting look at Bilbo, who gave a brief nod. “I went off to college in Minnesota. When the flu started spreading, school shut down and they sent us all home. It was fine for a bit, great to see the family again. This immunity thing runs in families, right? Seems to. Anyway, sooner or later things got worse, gangs popping up and the government losing control. My brothers and I hid for a few months. We thought we were the only ones in our town to make it. But this bunch of marauders rode through, looting and stuff. Dori and Nori agreed we should just stay out of there way. One day we were looking for supplies and saw Dwalin getting the tar kicked out of him by the guys. He was a police officer in our town. Arrested Nori more than once, though he was the only guy to do it. But Nori saved his life. After that, Dwalin grabbed his brother and the five of us got the hell out of there. We listened to the few reports on the car’s radio, none of it good, and just kept traveling. We found the Broadbeams in Indiana, and they came along. Before the cell towers went down Dwalin had gotten a call from Thorin. He said he had his nephews and were in Columbus with a few others, camping out. We headed there and stayed in the city for a few months. Then we heard about Erebor and started heading east. That’s when we found you.”

Bilbo listened carefully, though he was slightly distracted by the suspicious looks Ori’s brothers were giving him over her shoulder. She noticed his concerned expression. 

“What’s wrong—I mean more than the obvious.” 

“I think your brothers are plotting my death.” She giggled. 

“Oh don’t worry. They do that to everyone,” she said, though it wasn’t exactly comforting, “Those two have been overprotective since I was born. Dad wasn’t really in the picture growing up, and we lost mom early on. Dori raised me almost on his own. The first boy to ask me out nearly lost an arm. I’m a bit worried about Fili and Kili, actually.”

“Do they harass you a lot?” Bilbo asked with concern.

“Harrass?” Ori spluttered, “No, no, not like that. They’re just flirting a bit, nothing different than before the flu.” She smirked to herself before laughing suddenly, “I almost feel bad for them; I’m the only girl for miles and they’re swimming in a sea of homosexuals!” 

“W-what?” Bilbo stuttered. He was gay; he just hadn’t realized it had been so obvious. Was that why the guys didn’t trust him?

“Oh, I hope you don’t have a problem with it, but a bunch of the guys are gay,” Ori explained, and Bilbo discovered she certainly wasn’t talking about him, “Dwalin and Nori are both gay, and I would bet money they will get together sooner or later. Thorin isn’t straight either. I’m not sure about a few of the others. Bofur is sweet to everyone, and I can’t even talk to his cousin. I know Gloin had a wife and kid. But, like I said, I’m the only girl. Fili and Kili would hit on a rock if it wore lipstick,” she said with just a twinge of remorse. 

“Oh, I’m sure they like you for who you are,” Bilbo tried to comfort. Ori snorted. 

“Those two…They are always off on their hunts or scavenging or trying to pull some prank. Rough-and-tumble, laugh-out-loud boys. And I’m the girl that dreamed of living in a library. I’m sure they find me adorable, when they’re not busy fanboying over Mister Dwalin or their uncle.”

“What?” Bilbo almost laughed. Ori chuckled with him.

“Have you not seen them? They are always trying to impress them. Riding the motorcycles, shooting practice, being the first to volunteer for scouting trips. Fili and Kili might as well be lost puppies.”

“I think we’re all a bit lost in this world,” Bilbo commented. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ori sighed, “But it seems like some people are more suited to that than others. Fili and Kili? Their dad used to take them hunting on the weekends every summer. Nori has got quick fingers and quicker mind. Dwalin knows how to use every firearm you can name. Me? The closest thing to violence I ever faced was a paintball game at a birthday party. And I was black and blue by the end. I wasn’t built for this.” Her shoulders slumped. “Sometimes I think I’m just a burden, like the only reason they’re keeping me is because I’m a girl.”

Bilbo blinked, not understanding. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. 

“End of humanity, Bilbo. Kind of need girls to stop that.”

His eye brows flew to his hairline and he tried to stumble out an apology but she waved her hand. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she murmured. She started picking the books back up when Bilbo caught her arm. 

“Ori, everyone’s got talents. Just because yours aren’t suited to the apocalypse doesn’t mean you’re a burden. Someone will have to write this all down one day, I mean I kept a journal in the library. If humanity builds itself back up people will need to know what really happened. Writers are just historians who use more embellishment.” 

Her solemn frown slowly turned into a light smile and she nodded gratefully. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Bilbo.” Her smile grew to a laugh, “Though I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for me to get a few shooting lessons. Dwalin has got a few extra guns I could look at. Slingshots don’t exactly ward off bandits.”

Ori gave him a little wave and went to sit with her brothers. She seemed happier, more at ease, and surprisingly so did Bilbo. 

Which is just when Fili and Kili came running into camp, back from their hunt. 

“Thorin!” Fili yelled, the boom of his voice shaking the quiet camp.

“What?” Thorin growled accusingly, though much softer. The brothers shared a look. 

“Two of the motorcycles are missing,” Kili answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look! The actual plot!
> 
> And hey guys, Democracy Time!  
> Because I am indecisive. 
> 
> There will probably be more Dwalin/Nori (Does that have a name yet?) and Bagginshield in the next chapter, but I have realized that I wrote myself into a corner with Ori. 
> 
> So Fili/Ori or Kili/Ori?


End file.
